one. He’s the one.”
He was the one, all right. Now I remembered what I was here for. I put my hands on my hips. “Everything is not okay. When you walked through my house the other night, you somehow missed the log propping open the basement window. Anybody could have gotten in there. I’m lucky I didn’t get my throat slit in my sleep.”
“Whoa.” Brad crossed his arms. “What are you talking about? What log?”
“Not a log, exactly. More like a stick. But either way, that window isn’t secure. And I want to know why.”
Brad ruffled a hand through his hair. “Hang on. Let me get dressed.”
He shut the door, leaving me alone on the porch. I stared at the six panels of glossy white. If it had been my house, I would have asked him inside. I felt a little put out having to wait here, especially since I hadn’t yet grabbed my winter coat out of the trunk of my car.
I sat down on the first step and scrunched up to keep warm. Directly across the street, the railroad tracks stretched east and west. Behind them lay an unkempt field of grass, then began the first buildings of downtown.
I shook my head. The inferior view coupled with the ear-blasting trains that ran rampant through town would definitely count against poor Brad upon resale. He’d have been smart not to get shackled with the home in the first place. But hey, not everyone was as house-savvy as me. At least my house had a row of shade trees hiding the railroad tracks. And if I were lucky, the next owner wouldn’t even notice the tracks until the papers were signed.
I wondered how Brad had ended up in Rawlings. Where had he grown up? Why had he become a cop? Why wasn’t he married?
I sighed. Maybe I should have said yes to his dinner invitation. He seemed like a nice enough guy, even if he was a Uniform. He’d probably just wanted to welcome me to the neighborhood like he’d said, not quiz me on my pathetic past. In fact, Brad didn’t even seem to care that I’d done time. That alone said heaps about his intentions. If he were looking for a long-term relationship, he sure wouldn’t pick me.
I leaned on my hands and sighed again.
Yep. I was safe with Brad.
The door opened and I turned to see him dressed in work boots, blue jeans, and a gray sweatshirt. Though he still looked built, his jaw-dropping features were now safely covered with fabric.
“Why don’t you show me the problem,” Brad said, coming down the steps.
When he got to the bottom, he turned and looked at me. Tall as I was, my head only reached his shoulder.
“By the way, your hair looks great,” he said.
I touched my new do, suddenly appalled by its lack of length. It seemed anybody could see right to my core without those fluffy flyaways to hide behind. And though Brad’s eyes had appeared dull brown on Halloween night, they were definitely sparkling with x-ray vision today.
I pursed my lips, determined not to be sidetracked by eye color observations. Especially since there was a pair of beautiful blue ones waiting to take me out Friday night.
“Follow me.” I led him up Railroad Street to the edge of his property, then angled through the crackled-white picket gate onto my own land. I kept close to the fence line, which was thick with out-of-control weeds and infant trees mixed with a border of daylily greens. Jan Hershel apparently hadn’t cared much for gardening. The unsightly mess could only come from years of consistent neglect. I was tempted to take a rototiller to the whole yard and start fresh.
But the grounds would have to wait until after I brought the gasping-for-life Victorian back to health. I halted on the pavement and pointed to the basement window. Brad moved past me and knelt down, squinting at the weeds and dirt surrounding the foundation. He stared at the stick in the sill for a minute, patting his fingers to his lips.
“It’s nothing more than a twig, really. I’m surprised you even noticed it. Let’s have a look inside.” He stood and walked toward the back porch.
“You don’t need me down there, do you?” I called.
He gave me a wry glance. “You’d probably know better than I would if anything is out of place.”
He was right. I hustled after him, though I dreaded another glimpse of the cistern and its gruesome contents. At the mere idea, my breath flew into hyperdrive.
We crossed the kitchen and neared the cellar door, my only goal to make it downstairs and back without losing my cool.
Nearly gasping, I slid back the bolt.
What was I so afraid of? It wasn’t as if there was really a body in the cistern. The most we might find besides lumpy concrete would be a little dirt if someone had tried crawling through the window.
I stood aside and let Brad go first.
We approached the bottom. Each riser yelped, as if screaming a warning.
I shot a glance at my feet, convinced that someone was hiding behind the staircase. I could almost see a gnarled skeleton hand grabbing for my ankle through the open space at the back of the step.
My ears started to ring.
I gripped the rail.
All I could think about was jumping piggy-back onto Brad.
Before I could act on the impulse, Brad reached the concrete and pivoted toward me.
“Tish.” The urgency in his voice had me convinced some ghoul was ready to attack.
I whipped around on the narrow step, ready to defend myself from whatever supernatural force came at me through the staircase.
The momentum from my spin carried me to the opposite rail and my hip bounced off the ancient wood. Flailing, I tried to catch hold of a rail or beam but grabbed only air.
Time shifted into slow motion as I tipped backward. Through the steps I got a clear view of the stony cistern. The window above it flashed strobe-like as each riser crossed my line of vision. Brad grabbed at my arm, but I fell through his grip.
I heard a thud and realized I’d landed spread-eagled on the basement floor.
13
Pain shot up my leg.
Brad lifted me to a sitting position. “I would’ve caught you, but that funky little spin threw me off.”
“Why’d you say my name like that? I thought the boogeyman was behind me.” I tried for a smile, but flinched instead.
“I was worried you were going to pass out. Your face was all white.”
I held my ankle, rocking and rubbing the twisted joint. It finally registered that the little squeaky sounds I’d been hearing came from my own efforts not to cry.
“Here. Let me take a look,” Brad said.
He manipulated my ankle, sending me into star-punctuated spasms.
“Okay. That’s enough,” I squealed.
This couldn’t be happening. I needed all my limbs intact. There was no time for debilitating injuries or whacky hallucinations. I had to get the job done and move to the next project, before I fell in love with Rawlings . . . or whomever.
“Help me up.” I held out my hand and Brad pulled me to my good foot. Spirals of color flared in my side vision. There had to be a broken bone in there somewhere. Sprains didn’t hurt like this.
I gritted my teeth. “I think I can walk.”
Brad guarded my back as I hobbled up the stairs using one foot and the handrails. I crawled across the kitchen floor, content to lean against the cupboards for lack of a chair. It was one of the few times I regretted traveling light through life. A big, soft, sink-down-in-fluff-up-to-my-chin love seat would really fit the bill about
